Putting Out the Flame
by cruciomysoul
Summary: AU. The Capitol is furious with Katniss for her berry stunt in the arena, so what do they do? They get even. How? They break her by killing her family, leaving Haymitch and Peeta to pick up the pieces of what's left of the girl on fire. /HIATUS.
1. Getting Even

I can't get it out of my head. The image of his face, his glare. It follows me everywhere. Every time I close my eyes, I see the darkness of his eyes, the pure hatred. And what's worse is that it's directed at me. And only me.

President Snow is furious for what I did in the arena. For saving both Peeta and myself with the berries. But I had to do it, I couldn't kill him and I couldn't just let him die. He is my supposed star-crossed lover after all. So I proposed the suicide pact, and voila, we both lived. He's furious, Haymitch told me so, but he hasn't done anything. I think he's just waiting, biding his time.

The love act isn't real, though. Not for me anyway. I hadn't realized it was for him either, until the train ride home when he told me so. We haven't spoken since, not properly anyway. We've kept up the 'madly in love' façade for the cameras, but that's about it. Behind the scenes, we're as estranged as my mother was once she lost my father.

I stare at the sunset. It's pretty, I love the colours and I could sit here for hours just watching the sky turn from light to dark. But I don't have hours. I have to get home and feed my family; my mother and my sister, Primrose. I love her more than anything in the world, and if something happened to her, well, I don't know what I'd do.

I stuff my bow and arrow back inside the hollow tree and sling my bag over my shoulder. In it are two squirrels for us and three more I got from the snares for Gale's family. Thinking about Gale is sad now, our friendship has been on rocky grounds since my return form the games and he's too preoccupied with working in the coal mines for me to see him. But he's still my best friend. I don't think anything could change that.

I make it to the edge of the meadow and listen out for the distinct hum of the electric fence. Silence. I duck under the wire and make my way back through the Seam towards Gale's house. It's Hazelle who answers the door. "Hi honey." She says and I smile back in response.

"Hey aunt Hazelle." I say, making her laugh. During the Games someone had made up the story that Gale and I were cousins, therefore making Hazelle my aunt. I don't mind one bit, she was already practically family before anyway. I hand her the three squirrels. "These were caught in Gale's snares, I figured I'd bring since he probably hasn't had time to check on them." She nods.

"Thank you, Katniss." She looks back into her house, up the beaten stair case. "He doesn't get to check them as often as he'd like; when he isn't at work he's busy sleeping." I nod. I know how much he loves his sleep. "Well, I'll see you later." I nod as she's about to shut the door, I suddenly remember something.

"Wait!" I put my foot in the frame to stop the door closing fully.

"Yes?"

"Here," I dig my hand into my pocket and pull out some coins, offering them to her. "Take them." She shakes her head,

"No, Katniss, I can't."

"Yes you can! I know Gale can't, he has too much pride, but please. I have far more than I need and it isn't going to be doing anything with me, so you may as well have it."

"No, Katniss…" I grab her hand, tip the money into her palm and close her fingers around it.

"Please." She sighs, and with one last look up the staircase, nods. "Thanks. See you tomorrow!" I give her a cheerful wave goodbye and head towards my old house.

I take a deep breath as I step inside the house. The smell is so inviting and familiar. I round into the kitchen and take my hunting boots off; replacing them with the new shoes that Effie makes me wear. They're horrible really, but I don't mind them too much. It keeps her and my mother from nagging. Now to get some supplies from the square.

The first stop in the square is The Hob. I still can't thank Greasy Sae enough for the collection that she started for Peeta and I during the games, so I make sure to come in here often and trade with people. "Hey Katniss!" I hear my name being shouted from various places in the room and I call back to them, earning a punch on the shoulder from Darius.

"Look at you, our new celebrity." He says as I sit on the counter, sipping a bowl of soup from Greasy Sae. I'm not entirely sure what's in it, but it's edible. And it doesn't taste too bad. I just laugh and shrug. When I finish my soup I hand her the bowl back, say thanks, and return to the stalls outside. We're running low on bandages and eggs so I buy some, along with some hard boiled peppermint sweets for Prim.

I exit the square and head to our new home in Victor's Village. It's huge; ten of our old house in the Seam could easily fit inside of it. My mother and Prim have been living in it ever since I was crowned victor of the Games.

"Prim?" I call out as I walk in. "Mum?" There's silence. I frown, wondering where they could be. They weren't in the square, I would have seen them, and they weren't at Gale's either. I sigh and walk into the kitchen.

The bags leave my hands and the scream erupts from my throat before my eyes have even comprehended the sight that lies before them. The scream is so blood curling, in a pitch I didn't even know I had the power to possess, that it shatters the glass on the window sill. My mother's home. And so is Prim.

But they're dead.

I run forward to them, tears spilling down my cheeks. "Prim!" I yell. I reach her body first, hanging from the ceiling, wearing the same dress she wore at the day of the reaping. I shake her arm. "No no no no! Prim!" I'm sobbing hysterically. Her body's gone cold; her eyelids are closed and there's wet trails leading from her eyes to her chin. I don't bother to check on my mother, I know she's just the same.

I turn on my heel, intent on running, when I freeze. There, on the dinner table is a single white rose.

President Snow wears a white rose on his suit jacket.

Suddenly, everything slots into place.

He's finally done it. He's finally done something about my defiance in the arena. And what has he done? He's killed my family, left me alone to live with the guilt that comes from the fact I refused to kill Peeta, a boy I'm not even in love with.

I'm the reason my family is dead. It's entirely my fault. Everything is my fault.

Now I'm running. Through the town, the crowds, not caring who I knock over in the process. I just have to get out of here. I ignore the annoyed shouts and just keep on running. Far away, my feet beat heavily on the floor.

I don't stop running when I reach the fence. I don't even check it; I just duck under and carry on running. I don't care about my appearance, or the noise I must be making. I know I must look like a troll, I haven't stopped crying and the sounds now coming from my throat are strange and mangled.

The only reason I stop running is because my vision has become too blurred and I trip, gambolling down a small hill to the edge of the lake that my father taught me to swim in so many years ago. My trousers are ripped and I can feel the warm blood pouring out from different places on my body. I crawl towards the concrete hut, getting more dirt into the scratches on my legs. But I honestly don't care.

I sit in the corner of the hut with my shoulders hunched, hugging my knees to my chest. I'm sobbing still, shaking violently. I can't think about it, yet I can't get the image out of my mind.

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><p>I don't how long it is before I hear the snapping of twigs outside. It's the peace keepers for sure, here to lash me to death for crossing the fence. I'm not making a noise any more, my throat ran dry quite a while ago, but tears are still springing from my eyes. I hear my name being called softly. "Katniss?"<p>

It's Gale's voice.

I try to speak, but nothing comes out. He doesn't even get his head around the door frame before I tackle him to the ground, wrapping my arms around his neck, burying my head into the crevice of his shoulder. This brings on another round of hysterical sobbing as he soothingly rubs my back. He doesn't say anything and I can feel that he's sobbing too, but my loud ones are drowning his quiet ones out.

"Come on, Catnip. Let's get you home." I don't object as he easily lifts me up, but I start to when he carries me.

"I can walk." I croak out, but he shakes his head.

"No. I'm carrying you." I give up protesting after a minute or two, wrap my legs around his waist and rest my head onto his shoulder. I feel like a baby being carried, but there's nothing I can do about that. I wish I could sleep, pretend this was all some kind of sick nightmare, but I know it isn't. Instead I stare up at the night sky. It's completely dark now and the full moon is at its peak. It must be way past midnight and I idly wonder how he found me here. Or how he even knew to come find me. But I let it slide, for now.

He carries me all the way through the village. I expected it to be empty, but there's crowds gathered, staring at us.

There are even more crowds around Victor's Village. The bodies must have been removed. Whispers and points are directed at Gale and me. The peace keepers holding the crowds back part to let us through and I immediately jump down from Gale's clutches. "Katniss…" He calls, but I don't want to hear. I walk slowly, pause at my front door and turn to stare at the crowds. There's Peeta and his family; only him and his father seem upset. Haymitch is stood on his front door step, hanging his head, shaking it slightly. Gale has his arm around his mother and his holding his little sister. All of the Hawthorne's are crying. Other members of the crowd are crying, some are calling out to me. And then, in one sudden movement, just like after I volunteered to save Prim in the reaping, every one puts three fingers together on their left hand, kisses it and then raises it up to the sky. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love.

Oh yes, people couldn't help but love my sister Prim.

But I've had enough of all their piteous looks, so I spin around and walk into my house, slamming the front door shut behind me. I walk straight into the living room, light a fire, and sit there.

I just sit in the dark and stare into the flickering flames.

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><p><strong>Give me eight reviews and then you can get chapter 2? ;D<strong>


	2. Sober

**Please Note that this chapter is in ****Peeta's** **point of view! This isn't going to be a regular occurrence; I just think this is an important detail of the story that you need to read. This may happen a few times if I need it to, but primarily the story shall be written from Katniss' point of view.**

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><p>Haymitch is sober. I couldn't believe it. I still can't believe it, yet I'm sat opposite him (and have been for the last half an hour) having a somewhat intelligent conversation. "How's Katniss?" I blurt out before I can stop myself. He sighs.<p>

"I don't know, haven't seen her." He runs a hand through his hair. "Listen, kid, go check up on her yourself. I know it's hard, but if you want to know how she really is, that's the only way to do it. Okay?" I nod. Despite Haymitch's drunken antics and arrogant attitude, he's actually an all right guy. When he isn't too wasted to remember your name, that is. I get up and, before I can decide against it, head over to her house.

As I walk up the steps my mind is thinking over what to say. Do I start with hello? Or do I skip that and just ask how she is? My thoughts are interrupted when I go to knock on the door but find it open. I push it open some more and call out, "Hello? Katniss, Prim?" No answer. "Mrs Everdeen?" I don't know her mother's name. Again there's no answer so I walk in slowly. The house is dark. In the doorway to the kitchen there's a mess on the floor where it looks like a bag has been dropped. Walking over and inspecting the contents, I realize it's Katniss' hunting bag and there's still a fresh squirrel inside.

Nothing could prepare me for what I saw when I raised my head and looked into the kitchen.

There they hung; Primrose and her mother, Mrs Everdeen. My mouth was open in shock and I rubbed my hands over my eyes a few times. They didn't disappear. They didn't even move. "Prim?" I say desperately. But I know she's gone, and Katniss is too by the look of it.

I run out the house, across the lawn and burst into Haymitch's house. "HAYMITCH!" I yell, coming into the kitchen.

"Blow you off that soon, eh?" He speculates.

"They're dead!" I nearly scream at him. He's caught off guard by this and falls off his chair. "Get up! They're dead!" He quickly clambers up, looking around frantically.

"Slow down boy! Who's dead?" I take a deep breath,

"Prim and her mother. They're both dead." I sink to the floor, my hands covering my face. This is terrible.

"And… And Katniss?" Haymitch asks weakly. I shake my head.

"I don't know where she is. She was there I think, but she's gone now." This seems to anger him. He grabs me by the shoulder and yanks me up, pushing me out of his kitchen.

"Well go find her then! I'll take care of her family." He shut the door on me and I can tell he's probably going to get drunk.

But I have to find Katniss. I have absolutely no idea where she could be, she might not even be in the district anymore. But I have to start somewhere I guess. I move as fast as I can towards the Seam, towards Gale's house. Perhaps she's gone there. It seems likely, with him being her best friend and all.

I knock on the door and I can tell straight away that she isn't there. Gale opens it, a surprised look on his face. I don't give him a chance to speak. "Is Katniss here?"

"No. Why?"

"Have you seen her anywhere?" I demand, desperate now.

"No. _Why?_"

"Prim's dead. I found their bodies but Katniss wasn't there, I think she has been there though, but I don't know where she is. I thought she might have come here." Gale's as white as a sheet by the time I've said it.

"What?" Gale asks, just as his mother appears behind him. He looks at her, horrified for a moment, before barging past me and running outside.

"Where are you going?" I yell after him,

"I have to find her!" I watch as he runs off, far faster than what I could have done, towards the meadow, towards the forest. Of course. The forest. That's where she would have gone.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Hawthorne asks, biting her lip. She's looking anxiously at Gale's shrinking figure. I hurriedly explain to her what happened earlier, and where Gale has gone.

"Oh no." She murmurs, "Come on, we have to go help Haymitch." I nod. She hurries back inside her house and comes back a few moments later with her children. "Would you mind carrying Posy?" She motions to the little girl clinging to the door frame.

"Yeah, sure, no problem." I pick her up easily, she hardly weighs anything at all, and carry her back to Victor's Village with Mrs. Hawthorne and the two younger boys in tow.

By the time we get there her house has already been sectioned off. Haymitch certainly didn't waste any time. He's sat on the front doorstep of his house. He stands up when I get closer enough and says, "Did you find her?" I shake my head.

"No, but Gale's gone to look in the woods." He nods and at this moment my family come out of the house next door. I hear my mother's shrill voice first.

"Just what on earth is going on- oh my!" She gasps, and I see the bodies are now being carted out of the house, covered in a white sheet. I swallow the vile lump that has now risen in my throat. I put Posy down and she runs to hide behind her mother's leg so I can go and stand by my family.

"What happened?" My father asks. He sounds terrified. I look at the floor as I answer,

"Prim and her mother were found dead in the kitchen." He lets out a sharp gasp. He's still smitten with Mrs Everdeen, even after all these years. He still loves the woman who ran off with a coal miner. The woman who's now dead. He lays a hand on my shoulder, but I think it's more to support him than myself. I shake it off. "I need to find Katniss." I say. He grabs my wrist.

"No, son. Stay here." I look at him confused. I don't want to stay here. I want to find Katniss, I want to talk to her, make sure she's okay and stay with her while she grieves. He's gripping my wrist so tight it starts to hurt.

"Okay, but er, let go of my wrist. Please." I wince as the pressure is lifted and he mumbles apologetically.

It's a long time before I catch sight of Gale carrying Katniss towards the village. It's past midnight and large crowds have gathered. Peace keepers have had to restrain a majority of them from coming into the village. I go to run up to her, but one look at Haymitch and I can see he's thought of me doing this and is shaking his head. I sigh, dejected, and stay beside my family.

She's stood in front of her door, facing us all. Some people call out, a lot of them are crying. My eyes are even threatening to. And then, all together, the crowd does something it hasn't done since the reaping last year. They put the three fingers on their left hand together and bring it to their lips before raising it up to the sky. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. This is sort of like a funeral, I guess. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means goodbye to someone you love. Even my father is doing it and soon, I am too.

As if she can't stand to look at us anymore, Katniss spins and slams the front door, concealing herself within. The crowds eventually disperse and I find myself stood next to Haymitch. He claps me on the back. "Let her be alone for now." But I don't want to let her be alone. I want to be with her. "She needs to come to terms with it on her own. Come on, I have a bottle at home." Of course he does. I shake my head,

"No, thanks. I'm not really the drinking type." He shrugs it off and disappears back inside his house.

I stare at her front door for a long time before I decide to go back into my house, to my bed. I can't sleep, I'm wishing more than anything that I could go in there and comfort her. Keep her away from the horrors that surely dwell within her mind. To keep her safe, as I have failed to do so far.

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><p><strong>When this hits 15 reviews I shall give you Chapter 3, enjoy!<strong>


	3. You Said

**NOTE:**** Again this is a short chapter is in Peeta's Point of View! I've decided to give you this update a bit earlier, as I have an exam in a few weeks' time so unfortunately, all my time will be spent revising. After the exam, though, I promise updates will become a lot more frequent! (Unless of course, you want me to post the chapter after this as well, then I gladly will as it is already written – I wrote it before this one, aha)**

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><p>"It's been almost two weeks, Haymitch." I growl angrily, slamming my fist onto his kitchen table. He sighs and runs his dirt covered hands through his hair. I presume he probably hasn't had a shower for a while; his personal hygiene is just as disgusting as his house. Gale looks at me wearily. I don't know what his aversion is to direct contact with me is, and often I have caught him glaring in a deathly manner at me but have politely ignored it.<p>

I don't have time to quarrel with him; honestly, the only reason I enlisted his help was because he refused to take no for an answer. Haymitch agreed with him by arguing that he knew Katniss better than anyone. They've been best friends for years, ever since her father died, so if anyone can bring her back, then surely it's going to be him. Haymitch finally answers me.

"I know Peeta, but it's going to take time."

"You said she'd get better, that soon enou-" Gale cuts me off, pure anger in his voice.

"For Christ's sake, she just lost everyone she ever cared about! She won't get better. There's nothing any of us can do."

"She recovered from losing her father." I say quietly.

"Yes." He hisses. "But only because she was forced to. She still grieves for him. At least she did. When he died, she had a little sister to fend for and a catatonic mother to fuel her hatred for people and passion for hunting. Now she doesn't. Now she has nothing." I'm taken aback by how harsh his words are. I know he supposedly knows her best, but he can't be right about this. She can't stay gone forever, can she?

"Gale's right, Peeta. This is going to be really difficult for her." There's something wrong with Haymitch's voice as he says this, but I can't tell what it is. It's almost pain, but it's too clouded by alcohol for me to make a proper judgement as to what it is.

"But you said-"

"I know what I said!" He snaps, signalling that he was in no way going to discuss the matter further. He turns to Gale; "Has she made any progress?" Gale shakes his head. "None at all?"

"No." Haymitch sighs and pours himself another glass. I go to snatch it away from him, this is no time for him to be drinking, but he's expecting this. He takes the glass out of my reach, the bottle along with it, and stands up, going to lean on the counter to finish his drink, all the while watching me with steady, knowing eyes.

"Well then."

"So what do we do?" I ask. Haymitch raises his eyebrows at me.

"You heard the boy, Peeta, there's nothing we can do." I glare at him and snarl,

"What? So you're just going to give up, is that it? You saved her life, Haymitch! You were her mentor, you're supposed to care!" He shrugs. "What about medication? Surely there are people in the hospitals of the Capitol who can help-" He starts laughing, half sarcastic, half tormented.

"You think the citizens of the _Capitol_ are going to help? They're the ones who ordered them to be killed! I wouldn't be surprised if she's denied all access to the city because of what she did. They're not going to help us bring her back Peeta, not if they've gone to all this trouble to break her." I'm still glaring at him, but I realise he's right; about this aspect, anyway. They won't help us, which means we'll have to bring her back, and try everything that we can.

I point my attention towards Gale. "Have you been to see her today?" I ask.

"Not yet."

"Good. Don't go. Tell Greasy Sae the same, please." He looks at me, frowning for a moment, before nodding and walking out.

"You know what you're doing?" Haymitch asks me. It's my turn to laugh.

"Of course I don't." I, too, rise and leave now.

I spend the next couple of hours helping my mother in the bakery before beginning a batch of Cheese bread for Katniss. She once told me on the train ride home from the Capital that it was her new favourite bread. I can't help but smile at the memory of her, of how she used to be. I'll get her back. She has to come back.

I take a deep breath before entering Katniss' house. I haven't been over to see her since the third day, instead tasking Gale and Greasy Sae with the task of looking after her. The house is clean. In fact, it looks as if no one lives here at all. Too busy inspecting the appearance of the hall, I forget about the small cabinet resting against the wall and my troublesome mechanic leg bashes straight into it. Although I feel no actual pain from the action, the automatic reflex causes me to curse aloud. I listen to see if my sudden cursing has any effect on the house; it doesn't appear to.

When I enter the living room, everything is the same. Nothing has changed at all. It's sad to see her sat there, a ghost of her former self, knowing she won't come back yet still hoping. This can't be the end. I put the basket of bread down on the table beside her, hoping the warm smell might temp her to take a bite. I force the smile on my face to find a part in my voice. "Hello Katniss." Seconds pass and I still find myself disappointed that she doesn't respond. She's staring in front of her and hasn't appeared to register my presence at all. Maybe she hasn't.

"I baked you some bread." I say, "Its cheese bread. I remember you said it was your favourite, so…" I trail off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. I watch her intently for a couple more seconds before a thought strikes. "Can I paint you?" My mouth blurts out. I should capture this moment. She's hurting, but she looks peaceful. One day, she can look back at the painting and say 'I got through that. I survived. I'm a fighter, a survivor.' I continue to watch her to no avail; there's no change in her posture, not even in the slightest. My eyes follow the direction she's staring at. "Oh, the fire's gone out." I say. "I'll re light it, yes; the flames will be nice and orange, pretty really, very lovely to paint…" I take some of the logs from the basket next to the sofa and place them in the fire place, lighting them with a match. I put the blanket around her next, deciding it would make a lovely edition to the picture.

I sit back down on the sofa and get out my sketch pad, deciding it would be much easier to draw her first and paint her after. I chat to her while I draw, just about nonsense things like the weather, how everyone has been, and my mother's new plans for the bakery. It's not until I'm just adding in her facial features when Gale appears in front of me, nearly making me jump out of my skin. _No wonder he's so good at hunting, _I think, _the man's more silent than a mouse._

But still, he shouldn't be here. I specifically told him not to come. "What are you doing here?" I ask sharply, struggling to keep the scowl off of my face.

He shrugs, not looking at me. He's holding something in his hand. He unclenches his fist and looks down, and I see unfamiliar objects; a necklace and a piece of ribbon. "Delivering things that belong to her." He walks over to Katniss and drops the items into her lap. "It's your mother's necklace, Katniss. The one your father got her for her birthday. And your sister's hair ribbon." I frown, why has he brought her those? I'm about to snap at him, these are the last things she needs right now, when the streaks of water down Katniss's cheeks stop me. They're tears. Instead of snapping, I sigh. So she's been listening to me this whole time, yet she's chosen to ignore me.

Well, at least it shows she isn't completely gone. But she isn't completely here, either.

"Well done, Gale." I say sarcastically, "You made her upset."

"Like she wasn't upset already." He sneers. "I told you, we're wasting our time. She isn't coming back." He seems so confident and assured of this. But he can't be.

"You don't know that." I say, hopeful. It's more directed at Katniss than Gale, because if she was listening earlier, then she's probably still listening now.

"And you don't know that she will." He turns to face her, "The death report said that they're death would have been quick and relatively painless, in case you wanted to know. Goodbye Katniss." Not even sparing me a second glass, he stalked out of the room, out of her house, and probably out of her life.

Good. She doesn't need him. Not if he's going to continuously berate her and treat her like she's nothing. She's not nothing; she's everything.

I sigh once more, deciding it would probably be best if I left, too. I place a kiss on her temple and whisper, "Come back, please Katniss. Prove him wrong. I know you can hear me. None of this was your fault; you know that, don't you? No one blames you; remember that. Come back to me, please." My last few words were pleads. I stare at her for a moment, watching the words sink in to her. Her jaw moves as she swallows, and I realise she isn't going to respond. Not yet, anyway.

I haven't given up on her. I won't give up on her.

As I'm walking past Haymitch's house, his head leans out the window. "How'd it go?" He calls to me, his eyebrows raised. I shake my head and wave it off, not really wanting to talk about it. I hear him huff and the window swings shut against its frame.

_Not well Haymitch, not well at all._


	4. Submersion

I haven't moved in days. I don't know how many it has been exactly; there's no clock in this room and the windows hold none of my attention. The fire's still going; I haven't taken my eyes off of it. I'm tired, I need to sleep, but I can't. I won't.

I get visitors. Everyday people come and go. Most frequently are Gale and Greasy Sae, along with her granddaughter. I don't know who lets them into the house because I certainly don't. Greasy Sae forces food into my mouth while her granddaughter just wanders about, humming to herself. She's off in that 'happy little world of her own' constantly, and I hate her for it. No, it isn't hate, more like envy.

Yes, I envy her because she doesn't have a single care in this world.

Gale comes and sits opposite me. He talks, but I never listen. It's just a faint humming sound now and his face has become so out of focus I can't even remember what it used to look like. Back when I cared. He's tried to shake me, yell at me, to bring me back, but nothing works. I think it's him that keeps the fire going. I know it's him that puts the blanket around me every night. Gale stays for hours and sometimes he even falls asleep here. I don't see why he doesn't just give up, leave me to myself. Someone's probably telling him, maybe even paying him, and everyone else, to stay. I'm sure of it, why else would Greasy Sae come? Certainly not of her own accord, that's for sure. Unless it is, because I was her best customer and she misses her trades.

Yes, that's probably why. Bring the girl back to life and she'll reward you with more meat.

I'm exactly like my mother, I think. This is what happened to her when she lost my father. Except she came back, it took a while, but she came back. I don't think I'll be coming back. I have no reason to. There's no Prim to look after, no mother to hate. No anything.

Just thinking that makes my throat tighten and the tears roll effortlessly down my cheeks. I don't make a sound though. I just sit here in silence and wallow in my own despair.

There have been no visitors today. The day is almost over and the fire's going dim. Where's Gale? I think. Maybe he's finally given up. But there's still a small part of me hoping that he hasn't. The blanket isn't around me anymore; the hairs on my arms are standing up. It's cold, I'm cold, but there's nothing I'm planning to do about that.

Just as that part of me is about to give up, like the rest of me, the smell of freshly baked bread fills the room. It's not just any bread, its cheese bread. My favourite bread. This can't be Greasy Sae, she doesn't bake. She wouldn't waste her money by buying food for a girl who's essentially catatonic, either. She'd save all that cherishing for her granddaughter, because that's who she loves and that's who she takes care of.

Not like me. I don't take care of anyone and I don't love anyone, not anymore. I don't think I can.

I listen as I hear the unfamiliar sound of footsteps entering the house. I usually can't hear Gale's silent hunter tread and am too zoned out to listen to Greasy Say, but I'm alert now.

It's as if this newcomer is purposely taking every attempt to get their presence noticed. I don't flinch as something hard knocks against the wall with a thud, followed by a curse, which is then that I realize just who this visitor is. It's the boy who lost his leg because of the tourniquet I made him in the games with my arrow. With the arrow that ended Cato's life. It's the boy with the bread, who's bringing me bread once more, although this loaf doesn't smell burnt.

It's Peeta Mellark. What's he doing here? I wonder. I'm still staring at the now burnt out fire, but my ears are open. It feels weird, relying on my hunting instincts once again, and I know for a fact I don't like it. I don't want hear his voice, undoubtedly laced with pity and disappointment and hope.

Hope. Yes, there's always hope. Even a small flicker of hope is enough to warm the coldest of hearts on a dark lonely night. Everyone's always hoping.

I want to pretend he isn't here, like I do with Gale. I want to not listen and just stare into the flames, but there's no fire now. Just black ash and burnt wood. In my peripheral vision I see him put down the basket of bread on the table beside me and then go and sit on the sofa opposite. That's Gale's seat. Is Peeta the reason Gale hasn't come? Is he the one paying Greasy Sae to check up on me? He probably is, I know he cares deeply for me, and this wouldn't be the first time he's tried to save my life. The bread when we were kids, soon after my father had perished in Coal Mine explosion, the arena when he lied to Cato and the other Careers, telling me to run from the Tracker Jackers and dooming himself…

All those times I feel as if I've owed him an enormous debt. Except this time I don't. Because I don't want to be saved this time. I have no reason to live, not anymore. I don't owe him anything.

"Hello Katniss." His voice rings clear in my ears. I had forgotten what it sounds like. I don't respond, I don't even know if I can respond. All I know is that we're both sat here, and I have no intention of speaking to him; the following conversation that is bound to ensue will be thoroughly one sided. No effort what so ever shall be put in by me, instead all my effort will be focused on staying indifferent and tuning him out completely.

Oh how I wish was Greasy Sae's granddaughter, able to live in my own world at peace and not have to be bothered by the cruel people of this sick world.

"I baked you some bread." Does he think I'm stupid? I can see it and I can smell it. "It's cheese bread. I remember you said it was your favourite, so…" He trails off. Indeed, it is my favourite. Well, it was. I don't know if it still is. "Can I paint you?"

What did he say? Can I paint you? _Can I paint you?_ What am I, some kind of freak that needs to be preserved so many more along the line can view the picture and laugh at how ridiculous of a human being I am? Sure, if that's the case, then go right ahead and paint me. I don't respond. I'm still staring at the fire, but I'm watching him from the corner of my eye. At first he's watching me, but then his eyes follow my line of sight towards the fire and understanding dawns on his face. "Oh, the fire's gone out. I'll re light it, yes; the flames will be nice and orange, pretty really, very lovely to paint…" I clench my jaw. I don't want to hear him drone on and on about stupid paint and pretty little pictures._ I want him to leave. _Hands appear in front of the fire place and soon enough a new fire is blazing. The blanket is put around me. Peeta retakes his seat and pulls out a sketch pad. I didn't even know he'd brought a bag.

He chats to me as he paints. This I successfully drown out. It isn't until his voice turns harsh and I realize he isn't talking to me that I start to listen again. "What are you doing here?"

"Delivering things that belong to her." It's Gale's voice, I think. No wonder I didn't hear footsteps. But then again, it's only Peeta's footsteps that I can't ignore. Blasted robotic leg. Something drops onto my lap. I don't have to look down to see what it is, as Gale decides to tell me. "It's your mother's necklace, Katniss. The one your father got her for her birthday. And your sister's hair ribbon." My throat tightens again. Tears fall. They know I can hear them. One of them sighs.

"Well done, Gale. You made her upset."

"Like she wasn't upset already. I told you, we're wasting our time. She isn't coming back." So he _has_ given up on me.

"You don't know that."

"And you don't know that she will." How cute. They quarrel like an old married couple. But Gale's right, I'm not coming back. "The death report said that they're death would have been quick and relatively painless, in case you wanted to know. Goodbye Katniss." I didn't exactly want to know. Maybe he thought it would be a comforting fact for me. It isn't.

Someone sighs again. It was Peeta. He places a kiss on my temple. "Come back, please Katniss. Prove him wrong. I know you can hear me. None of this was your fault; you know that, don't you? No one blames you; remember that. Come back to me, please." He stares at me for a moment and I swallow. The tears have stopped. But I'm not going to respond to him.

Oh Peeta, you have no idea how entirely wrong you are. All of this is my fault.

He leaves, and for a few moments I sit doing nothing. My hands twitch and before I can stop them, they're lifting up the items from my lap. I stare at them but I can't really see them. I don't want to see them. Instead, I want to see the owners of them. I want to see my litter sister Primrose, and my mother. Yes, I even miss my mother.

But there is one way that I'll be able to see them again.

I force my body to stand up. My legs are weak and stiff as they begin the climb up the stairs towards the bathroom, the necklace and ribbon clutched in my hand.

I turn on the taps and watch as the water pours into the tub, filling it. My hand reaches in and then out, testing the temperature. Ice cold. I gasp as I put my feet in and slowly lower myself into a sitting position. I look at the piece of ribbon on the chair and the necklace that hangs next to it. _Mother, Prim. I'll see you both soon._

I pick up the razor from the edge of the tub. _Am I really going to do this?_ Yes. Yes I am, because I don't deserve to live. I've killed people; innocent people. I'm a monster. My family is dead because of me. I killed the one person I truly loved. I don't wince as the blade cuts my skin. As much as I hate the sight of blood, I force myself to watch as it digs deeper. Red liquid oozes out, flowing down my hand and through my fingers, dripping into the water below. I do the same with my other wrist and let the razor fall from my grasp. I barely hear it hit the floor before I close my eyes and tip my head back, shutting my mouth and trapping all the air inside. Once submerged, I release the air and let myself sink.

I think back to what Gale said earlier.

Death can be painless.

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><p><strong>Cliff hanger you guys! Haha, see you all after my exam :D ~Don't forget to leave me reviews!<strong>


	5. Snapping Out

**A/N: Exams are over, woohoo! So, you can finally find out what happens to Katniss now :D Enjoy!**

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><p>Some people believe that when you die your entire life flashes before you. All the good, all the bad. Every right thing and every wrong thing. Everyone you love and everybody you hate. I didn't see that. Instead, I just saw people. The faces of everyone I have ever met or seen. They all flashed before me and some of them I even watched die.<p>

Finally, it was who I had been waiting for. My mother and my sister. Standing before me, staring down at me. My mother has her arms around Prim's shoulders and they're smiling down at me, looks of pity in their eyes. _I'm sorry_, I say_. I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. None of this was supposed to happen. Forgive me, please .I am so, so sorry. _I keep repeating those last five words for what seems like an eternity before I can feel myself slipping down, away from them. Their faces blur, morph into the white glow that surrounds them.

Am I truly dying now? I must be. I've said my apologies, and now I'm on a spiral path towards hell.

I'm lying on something hard. Am I in hell yet? I must be; I can't feel myself breathing. But I can feel pressure on my chest, right where my heart is. The pressure lifts and then comes down again; it's almost as if it's being pounded. Then it disappears all together and reappears on my lips. There's a pinching sensation on my nose and before I know it I'm coughing and spluttering. Something pats against my back and my eyes finally fly open, inches away from Haymitch Abernathy's face. I sit up and look around wildly. I'm still in the bathroom and there are gashes on my wrists. They're not bleeding anymore though.

Oh right. I tried to kill myself. And I didn't succeed. Why? Because Haymitch decided to be an asshole and check up on me.

"What the hell, Haymitch?" I snarl, using the remainder of my strength to push at his chest. It apparently has no effect, however. He barely moves an inch and his calloused hands wrap around my wrists. I hiss and clench my teeth as they make the cuts sting.

"Why did you do this?" He demands, turning my wrists over and looking at them. I turn my head away but don't answer. He sighs and drops my wrists before getting up and going over to the cabinet. He returns with bandages. I try to pull my arms away but he's stronger, faster. He securely wraps them up in the bandages.

"Why didn't you let me die?" I ask, surprised by how used my voice sounds. It isn't the barely audible croak I was expecting.

"Because you don't want to." I blanch. _Don't want to die?_ If I don't want to die, then why did I just try to kill myself? I let out a frustrated growl. He sighs; "Trust me, kid. You don't want to die. The sooner you snap out of this stupor of yours, the better. Besides, this feeling will pass, eventually."

"THIS FEELING WILL _PASS_?" I ask incredulously, jumping up. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE!" I scream at him. "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT IT'S LIKE TO HAVE TO LOOK AT YOURSELF, TO HAVE EVERY THOUGHT OF YOURSELF ASSOCIATED WITH THE FACT THAT YOU'RE THE REASON YOUR FAMILY'S DEAD. YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT'S LIKE!" I sink to my knees, sobbing as I struggle to rip the bandages from my arms. Haymitch glares at me before standing up, and I think for a moment he's going to hit me. He doesn't, instead he kicks the chair over and walks out of the bathroom. I hear his heavy footsteps stomp down the stairs finally the front door slamming.

I am alone. I take a deep breath and stand up. I'm soaking wet. I grab a towel and wrap it around me, before making my way to my bedroom and putting on some dry clothes. I go back downstairs and sit in my chair. The fire's gone out once again. How long it was before Haymitch resuscitated me, I don't know.

I try to tune everything out, like I did last time, but I can't. I know it isn't right for me to do this. I have become the very thing I hated about my mother. How ashamed my father must be right now. My mind travels back to my encounter with Haymitch in the bathroom.

Why did that last comment of mine have such an effect on him? It's not like he knows what I'm going through. He doesn't. He can't. Haymitch doesn't-

Oh. Wait a second. Haymitch doesn't have a family. I have never seen his games aired on the television. Did he…? He must have. He must have done something. But what did he do? Slowly, the pieces I have fall into place. He does know what I'm going through. He knows exactly what I'm going through, and he knows that if I don't 'snap out of it' then I'll end up like him, a drunken wreck. Or worse, dead.

Oh Haymitch. Would you look at that, he's still trying to keep me alive, even now when the games are over. But they're not over; they'll never be over, not completely anyway.

I feel guilty for snapping at him, for saying what I did, I didn't know. But I do now. They killed his family, just like they killed mine. Before I can change my mind and sink back into the empty pit of grief that I have inhabited for so long, I get up and force my limbs to move. They ache now that they've dried off, and I curse myself for sitting there motionless for so long.

When I get to the hall way and pass the door to the kitchen, it takes all my willpower and then some to not spin one hundred and eighty degrees and vault back into my chair. But I can't. I've suffered enough, and now I have a mentor to apologise to. I bolt to the front door, wrench it open and run out into the cold. It's been snowing.

I don't knock when I get to Haymitch's house. I just barge straight in and go to the kitchen. He's sat there at the table, uncapping a bottle of whiskey. He looks up when I enter and I can tell this isn't his first bottle. "Finally figured it out have you sweetheart?" His voice is full of bitterness. I nod.

"They killed your family too." I manage to get out.

"You aren't the only one the Capital hates." I nod again and take the seat opposite him. "You look like hell." Of course I do. I haven't properly washed in God knows how long, and earlier I tried to drown myself. I shrug, and the motion causes my shoulders to ache.

"I don't care."

"I know you don't. So why have you come here sweetheart? To pity me? To apologise? Ask me why?" I think for a moment. Yes, they're the exact reasons I came. But instead of saying so, I say:

"I came for a drink." He throws his head back and laughs, and almighty guffaw that I'm surprised to find isn't sarcastic or bitter. It's a near genuine laugh. I crack a small smile at that. He slides the bottle across to me. "Thanks." I wipe the top with my sleeve and take a swig. I almost gag, the fire that burns my throat is immediate, yet it feels good to have it down me. I take another gulp, larger this time, as if I have been quenched of thirst for a long period of time. I cringe and try to push it away as I'm instantly reminded of the time Haymitch refused to send me water in the arena, instead silently begging me to find it for myself.

We sit in silence for a few moments until Haymitch says, "Can I have that back now?" motioning to the bottle. I shake my head and wrap my arm protectively around it.

"No." He chuckles and reaches down, pulling out another bottle that he keeps for himself.

Here we are. Me and Haymitch, drinking together in our bitter loathing of the Capital.

* * *

><p>"Does it ever go away?" I finally break the silence. "The pain, will it ever leave?"<p>

"No. It doesn't go away. Not completely, but over time, it dims." I nod. I was expecting something like that.

"How long?" He sighs and I realise that that was a pretty stupid question to ask. My finger starts tracing imaginary circles on the kitchen table.

"It helps to talk, you know." I look up at him briefly. "It helps to talk about it." Does it? Somehow I doubt that, so I snort. He continues anyway. "Tell me about your sister."

He wants to know about Prim? What can I tell him, other than the fact she's dead? Nothing really matters about her now, does it? I open my mouth to spit out the obvious fact of her death, but instead out comes a mangled noise that sounds like a cross between a strangled cat and the battle cry of a troll. It takes a moment for me to realise that I've started to sob rather hysterically. His strong arms reach across the table and pick me up, easily lifting me over and placing me onto his lap. He cradles my body to his, one hand stroking my hair and another rubbing smooth circular motions on my back.

"Katniss." He says, "Come on sweetheart, look at me." My sobbing has been reduced to small hiccups. I pull back and look at him; he's staring me directly in the eye. "It'll be okay. But we need to talk about it, all right?" I nod and gulp, tears threatening to leak again. He pulls my head back down to his chest and strokes my hair again. "Shhh." His other hand continues to rub smoothly across my back. "Shhh."

"Don't leave me." I blurt out into his chest. He stops rubbing my back, and I wonder if I've angered him. "Please." I say quietly. I'm too selfish to care.

"I won't, sweetheart." I tense up. What if he's lying, and only saying that to satisfy me?

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Really? Do you really promise, Haymitch?" I pull back again to look at him, I want to make sure he can look me in the eye and still say that. He can.

"Yes." I bite my lip.

"Then… then come live with me." I beg.

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><p><strong>Don't forget to leave me a review my pretties!<strong>


	6. He Promised

My heavy breathing is the only sound in the room. Haymitch's hand has stopped rubbing my back and is just still, resting there. He's stiff. I gulp. I made a mistake; I shouldn't have asked that of him. It's selfish of me and yet… I want it. I need it. I can't be alone. I don't want to be alone.

I start to climb off his lap, mumbling apologetically. I can't say a part of me isn't upset, though. It's the selfish part, of course. I had really wanted him to say yes. "I'm sorry, Haymitch, I shouldn't have asked tha-" His arms constrict, pulling me back. His hand resumes the circular motions on my back and he coughs, a bit awkwardly.

"It's okay, Katniss." I sigh.

"No, it's not. I can see you don't want to, it's fine." My voice cracks on the last word, and he knows it isn't fine. Of course it isn't fine. I need someone. I really, really need someone right now, and he's my only option. But I don't want to force him into this. He shakes his head.

"I never said I didn't want to." He reassures me, but I'm not convinced. "It just came as a surprise, that's all." He adds. "I mean, I expected you'd want…" I frown, what did he know about what I wanted or didn't want?

"I'd what?" I ask irritably. He coughs awkwardly.

"Want someone like Peeta… or Gale. Not me." Now I shake my head. I don't want either of them. It's clear that neither of them will understand what I'm going through, or help me when I need it. But Haymitch…

Yes, Haymitch knows. Haymitch can help me. He kept me alive before, and he can keep me alive now.

He frowns suddenly, and his eyes become disapproving. "When was the last time you slept?" he asks. My mind goes blank. When _was_ the last time I slept? I know I certainly haven't done it since… since they left. I shrug, and out comes a tortured whisper;

"I don't know." I can feel tears threatening to leak and I tip my head, clenching my teeth in frustration. I don't want to cry. No matter how hard I shut my eyes, I can't stop them escaping. I start shuddering; not shaking, but short shudders that act like mini tremors throughout my body, rocking me to the core. I feel Haymitch's fingers tip my chin up and I reluctantly open my eyes. My vision is blurry, but I can just make him out.

"Come on, sweetheart." He says softly, standing up and picking me up with him. "Let's get you to bed." I nod lazily, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. I barely notice him carry me up the stairs and lay me onto a bed. The one thing I notice, however, is when he tries to let go of me.

"No!" I rasp out, clinging to him, my nails digging into his wrist. "You promised!" I start shaking my head, "You promised you wouldn't leave me!" I start hysterically repeating his promise, ignoring the look of pity in his eyes. He sighs; I don't care if I'm being childish. He promised he wouldn't leave me. He promised.

"Well, budge up then." He says gruffly, staring down at me. I blink a few times.

"W-what?"

"Budge up." When I make no attempt to do so, he shoves my side, making room for himself on the bed. Straight away he crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes. I find myself staring at him, confused.

_What the hell just happened?_

Cautiously, I poke him. He doesn't move. Is he already asleep? I wouldn't be surprised. Slowly, I lie down and rest my head on his chest, wrapping my arm securely around his waist.

He promised me he wouldn't leave. If he does, I'll know about it.

I close my eyes and try to fall asleep, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

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><p>Light blurs down from above, glowing around the edges of the trees above me. I have to squint to fully get my eyes to focus, but even then I can't really see a thing. Grunting, I push off the ground and start to walk, looking around. I realise I'm in the forest, and what's more, I'm carrying a bag of game. Enough to feed a family of three.<p>

Three.

Primrose. Mother. Myself.

I drop the bag and start running, through the trees, not caring when stingers brush my legs or when brambles catch onto my socks. I just have to get home. I have to prevent this. They can't die. Not this time. As I clear through the various plants and vines, I begin to wander where exactly I am. This isn't the forest back home in District 12; this is a completely new forest.

_Jungle_. The foreign word springs to mind. I've never before seen a jungle, but I've read about them in school. They're supposedly filled with dangerous creatures and poisonous plants. But here, here it's silent. Not even the whistle of the wind can be heard, until-

Squawking. Lots and lots of squawking. Birds suddenly dart crazily out of the trees, clustering around me, creating ear splitting noises. I bat my hands at them, trying to make them flee, but they don't budge. I carry on running, hoping to find some kind of exit to this place. The birds follow, mimicking my cries of despair.

_Jabberjays_. Fully functional Jabberjays; not the Mockingjay hybrids we have back home. _Home_. This isn't home. Darkness is falling rapidly, obscuring my vision. I stumble blindly through more overgrown weeds until my feet no longer have solid footing. I choke as my mouth fills with water and bob back up to the surface, feeling as though I'm about to cough up my lungs.

I swim. For ages I just keep on swimming, to nowhere in particular, until I hit a grassy bank. Relieved, I climb out of the water to once again see the sun has risen. I grin, only to have it suddenly wiped off my face as I see, in the distance, an oak tree. Beneath that oak tree stand three people. A man, his wife and their young daughter. Making my way slowly forward, quiet as I can, I feel my eyes well up with tears. "Prim!" I call out. The girl stops playing and looks up, pointing at me.

"Katniss!" She cries back. I pick up my pace, wanting to be near her. Wanting to see her again, wanting to hold her. I recognise the couple behind her too. It's my mother and father.

"Mum! Dad!" It's been too long since I've seen them both, dad especially. I'm laughing, ecstatic, and sprinting full speed through the field of white roses towards them.

But I don't get to them.

Just as I get close enough to see their faces properly –how much they haven't changed – the ground below me starts to give way. Disintegrate. I gasp and try to run even faster, but it's no use. I'm not fast enough. Before I know it I'm falling down into a dark crevice, the roses following me. "PRIM!"

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><p>I wake up screaming. The room is dark and my hands are clutching nothing but empty sheets.<p>

Empty sheets. Haymitch. He's not here. I look around. He isn't anywhere in the room, either. "Haymitch?" I croak out, sounding incredibly loud against the silence of the house.

I jolt up as if electrocuted and stumble out into the hall, fumbling for the light switch. "Haymitch!" I call, "Haymitch?" When my search comes to no avail I just run, my breath coming out in ragged gasps as I begin to sob uncontrollably.

The stairs come sooner than expected. My foot trips over something on the floor and as a result misses the first step, causing me to go spiralling down, and landing in a scrambled mess on the floor. I bring my knees to my heavy chest, shaking, shivering, sobbing and ignoring the throbbing pain in my head. I can't believe it. I trusted him. He promised and he left me. He promised. If I can't even trust the one guy who I should be able to trust, then what's the point in it all?

I grit my teeth and bring my hands up to wipe my eyes. I shouldn't be crying over this. I should have known better to trust a man who's only interest – no,_ job –_ is to keep me alive. It's then that I notice that the bandages are moist, and not with tears. It appears my frantic scurrying has reopened my flesh wounds. I cringe as I slowly peel the cloth off, holding my arm up in the moonlight, inspecting them. Glossy red liquid trickles down, collecting in a pool at my elbow and dripping off, onto Haymitch's floor.

"Haymitch?" I try again. Maybe he didn't leave, per say, maybe he just went to the kitchen to get a drink, or something… But surely if he had, then he would have heard me fall, right? I listen out, for any kind of sign of life. Nothing. He's definitely gone. Again, I can't stop the tears.

Crying is so effortless, yet so exhausting at the same time. I'm almost gone, back into the so called 'wonderland' of my dreams, when I hear my name being called.

"Katniss?" My head snaps up and I sniff, staring straight into the eyes of Haymitch Abernathy. His eyes soften as they take in my face; my puffy eyes, runny nose and matted hair. It disgusts me. I'm not an object of his pity.

That's what his soft eyes are; pity.

Nothing more, nothing less.

"Katniss." He says again. I grit my teeth. He promised. Why should I reply to a man who broke his promise? But I can't find it in myself to look away from his eyes. It's like they're the only things anchoring me down, and I hate it.

I hate it I hate it I hate it.

"It helps to talk about it." He reminds me softly. Finally, I break contact with his eyes and look away, at the wall, seeing nothing. He sighs. "Don't start this again." He warns.

Immediately my head rivets back to him. "Me? Start this again? You're the one who started it!" I spit out, my voice seething with venom. "You promised me Haymitch. You son of a bitch! You promised me and you left! How could you?" I can feel the salt of my tears drip onto my tongue. "You promised, you promised me…" My sobs become too hysterical for me to continue. I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me in, so I fight against them.

But as usual, Haymitch Abernathy's strength far surpasses that of a broken, 16 year old girl.

I cry into his shoulder and he remains silent throughout the whole ordeal. I don't even realise he's picked me up and carried be back into the bedroom until we're lying down again and he's pulled the cover over us, telling me to sleep it off.

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><p><strong>Hey! I'm sad to say that there probably shan't be another update on this story for a few weeks, at least not until I have the rest of the story planned out to the finishing point. Sorry about that, but be patient, this story isn't going on hold or anything :D But leave a review and let me know what you think? Any suggestions? You don't think this is moving too quickly or anything, do you? All comments are welcome!<strong>

**- Also, I am planning on doing a story made up of a series of drabbles about FMA (In particular Royai/Parental!RoyEdAl), so if you guys want to give me some prompts to do I'll get started :D**


	7. Moving In

Slowly, my mind fogs into consciousness. My eyes, however, remain glued shut.

I ache. I ache _horribly._

Groaning, I nestle my head deeper into my pillow.

My pillow that isn't soft.

My pillow that feels like a stomach.

My pillow that is… breathing?

…

_Pillows do not breathe!_

I fly up with a strangled yelp hat cracks and hurts my throat, in response to how parched it has been. The events of yesterday come zooming back to mind in a sudden head rush and I groan, falling forward and burying my head in my real pillow. There's a rumbling chuckled beside me. "I see you've finally decided to grace us living with your presence again." I can hear the smirk in his words.

"How…" I clear my throat, "How long have I been out?" The bed shakes and the springs creak as Haymitch sits up.

"'bout three days." I peep up at him to see him yawning. "You snore like hell, by the way, and have a death grip to match."

"Idonotsnore!" I mumble into the pillow. He laughs again, somehow managed to have understood my slurred speech.

"Do so, kid." He ruffles my hair; my incredibly greasy and tangled hair. "Come on, breakfast time."

I shake my head. "Not hungry."

"Don't care, you have to eat. Now come on." I sigh, I know he's right.

Damn Haymitch.

I roll over, easing myself into a sitting position. I feel like an elderly woman, with brittle bones and withered skin, ready to snap at any moment. Just moving my neck makes me wince. Bracing myself for the pain that is bound to come, I rest my heavy palms on the bed posts and stand up, only to take one small step and go flying into Haymitch.

I'm not used to being so unsteady and uncoordinated on my feet. It's unnatural for me.

He steadies me, chuckling, but I don't have the willpower to hit him for it. With his assistance, I make it down the stairs and to the table, only to slump into the chair and sit there motionless, staring off whilst Haymitch prepares some eggs.

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><p>"When did you last shower?" I pause, fork midway to my mouth.<p>

"Urm…" Frowning, I put the fork down. "I don't- I don't know?"

Haymitch rolls his eyes. "You don't know much, do you kid?" I glare,

"Well excuse me for not wanting to live, let alone pay attention much when I'm suddenly left all alone." I snap at him, shovelling food into my mouth. I'm not even hungry anymore; the conversation has turned the food sour and now it just tastes like worthless mush in my mouth.

"Easy there. I'm not trying to start a fight."

"I didn't say you were."

Another eye roll.

"Whatever. Just go take a shower."

"Why? It's not like I'm going anywhere or expecting any visitors." I drop the fork and push the plate away; I can't force myself to eat anymore of the bland mix. Haymitch takes the plate away and scrapes the leftovers into the bin, placing the plate in the sink.

"You are going somewhere." My head swivels to face his turned back, and although he cannot see, I raise my eyebrow in question.

"What?" No answer. "Haymitch, I mean it. I'm not going anywhere." I hear him let out a weary sigh.

"You're going home." He holds a finger up to indicate silence as I begin to protest. "You're going home. Then, you are going to shower and do whatever the hell it is you usually do, and then you are helping me move my stuff into your place."

Haymitch's face bares an amused smirk at my stunned silence. I didn't think… He wasn't… I mean…

Finally, I find my voice. "You were serious?"

"Weren't you?" He rebukes. I nod, although not without hesitation.

Living with Haymitch… Well, I guess I'll just have to see how this one turns out, then.

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><p><strong>I know, this is incredibly short! Less than half of my usual chapters, so sorry! I just wanted to give something for now so you guys know I haven't abandoned this story, I'm just still writing up the rest of it so it can be put on a weekly schedule!<strong>

**Reviews are greatly appreciated, along with ideas and criticism!**


	8. Not What She Deserves

**This switches to Haymitch POV half way through, just to avoid any confusion.**

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><p>Walking back into my house – the cold, empty, lifeless one that is oh so posh and proper and full and <em>nothing<em> like the part of the District I grew up in – is more difficult than I imagined.

Going through the front door, up the stairs, into the bathroom; it's like I'm in a foreign land.

I'm not; it's just been far, far too long since I ventured into this part of the house. Or any part expect the living room, if I'm honest.

It's unreal how much grime has accumulated over my body. I'd almost forgotten that I'd fell down the hill in the woods; it all seems so long ago…

It took over an hour for me to feel satisfied, and by then the water had run shockingly cold. I didn't mind; in fact, I welcomed it.

I'd prefer to freeze than burn, anyway.

I didn't bother with my hair, what was the point?

There was none.

There was no one to dry it for me, brush it, plait it… I can plait it myself, of course I can, but I prefer Prim doing it. _And she prefers doing it too…_

I shake my head furiously, my eyes clamped shut, desperately trying to stop the gorge of tears. I'm not successful; they're streaming down my face by the dozen before I'm even out of the bathroom. Shaking, and trying to ease the retched sobs, I hurriedly throw on some clothes and scramble against the foot of my bed, pulling my knees to my chest, burying my head.

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><p>I watch her leave. I won't go with her; she could do with some privacy. Although privacy isn't always the best in these types of situations, as her suicide attempt proved, but she at least needs to feel that she can be trusted. Partially. I don't intend to leave her alone for long, anyway.<p>

She didn't object when I told her my plan. She probably didn't have the energy to, if I'm honest. Sighing, I dump her plate in sink. I'll clean it later, for now I have to visit Peeta.

The lovesick kid opens the door before I even knock. "How is she? I saw her leave, where's she going? Why aren't you with her?" The questions just bubble out of his mouth.

Growling irritably, I shove my hand over his mouth, silencing him, and push past him into his house. His parents are at work in the bakery along with his brothers.

I walk to the kitchen table and sit, indicating that he should do the same. He does, opposite me.

"She's gone home. I've told her to take a shower, get clean, and then I'm going to move my stuff into her house."

Peeta frowns. "Move your stuff into her house? Why?" I shrug,

"She asked me to. I didn't really have a choice; she wouldn't have accepted a rejection in the state she was in." The boy's still frowning. "Look, you and I both know she can't be left alone right now. Gale's out of the question, since he believes she's completely gone. She isn't, but it will take a while for her to come back around, and even when she does, she won't be the same. She blames herself. That much is obvious. The best we can do is be here for her, she seems to trust me, enough to want me to live with her. You just need to be her friend right now, Peeta; her friend, and nothing more. Just help me bring her back."

Finally, Peeta nods. Good.

"Come by and visit tomorrow, I can't say if she'll be pleased to see you or not, but since she is responding to the outside world now, it might do her good." I stand to leave.

"Haymitch…" He begins, pausing as if he's not sure if he wants to continue.

"What?" I grunt.

"Ah... nothing, never mind." I raise my eyebrow, signalling for him to just say whatever it was he was going to say. He sighs, "It's just that… you and Katniss, you have more in common than you'd think." I shrug, acting indifferent.

He's right, of course. I know we're very alike, which is why I'm doing this; I don't want her to fall down the same path as me. It's not the life she deserves.

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><p><strong>Long time no update :3 Hah, uh, sorry about that - I don't really know what happened.<strong>


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